


Drapes

by SansyFresh



Series: Fluff and Stuff [12]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, King/Maid AU, Light Hurt/Comfort, M/M, kustard - Freeform, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22588843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: Red doesn't like being the peon played for a fool.Sans isn't sure how to tell him its not like that.Both of them are certified idiots.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Fluff and Stuff [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1250093
Comments: 3
Kudos: 74





	Drapes

**Author's Note:**

> wooo a fic requested by an anon! just some King Sans and Maid Red, with fluff ^^

Red couldn’t help but curse the longer he teetered on the edge of the ladder, the duster in his hand just an inch too short to reach the very end of the highest bookshelf. He was going to fall and crack his skull open if he tried much farther, but there was something telling him, whispering in the back of his mind that if he didn’t finish this, something bad would happen.

Nothing about his master made him think that he’d be punished for not reaching the very farthest corner of a bookshelf. The skeleton was the laziest son of a bitch Red had ever met, and Red had himself as a comparison.

But reach he did, farther and farther until, as predicted, the ladder tipped over and Red came crashing down, a yelp tearing itself from his teeth as he was caught mid air, magic surrounding his soul and gently lowering him to the floor. He glanced up, finding Master Sans standing there, staring at him with an unknowable expression, and Red had half a mind to flip him off. 

It was Sans’ damn fault that Red was here in the first place, trapped and penniless except for the money Sans paid him at the end of every month. And sure, Sans paid fair wages, but for a Lord of the land, he certainly didn’t pay as much as he could have. That money was either saved for emergencies or sent to his brother, who was living hand to mouth in the huge city Sans was King of. It wasn’t fair for someone as brilliant as his baby brother to be a blacksmith, but there was little more he could do about it.

Which… Red wasn’t really worth it, he would admit. He was a thief, a piece of garbage, not worthy to shine Sans’ boots, but that’s what he did every Sunday, right before Sans headed off for his weekly meetings. 

Sans cared, for whatever reason, enough to make sure he didn’t bust his skull open falling over something stupid, and so Red did not flip him off, and only crossed his arms, sulking. 

“I wasn’ gonna get hurt, Master.” He said, a low growl in his voice as he realized Sans wasn’t putting him down right away. Instead he was left floating a few feet above the ground, something he never enjoyed. Sans simply stared at him.

“Well, if that was true, then I wouldn’t have come in here to find you doing something that foolish.” Sans stepped forward until he was in Red’s space, looking up at him with that unflappable, emotionless stare. “What would have happened if I wasn’t here to catch you? You’d be dust in my carpet for the next maid to clean up.”

Red growled, stopping only because the grip on his soul tightened. “I wouldn’a been dusted! I’ve falled from a lot higher’n that!” He argued, more than a little peeved at the lack of faith in him. Sure, he had 5 HP, but Sans had even less than that! If Red really wanted to, he could dust Sans right here, right now, but it was his sense of duty and respect that kept him from even trying. 

“Yeah, and you have the scars to prove it. Excuse me if I don’t exactly like seeing you hurt  _ more _ .” 

This time Red did flip him off, using both hands as he readjusted his gravity, dropping to his feet. “Fuck ya, Sans. I’m done.”

Sans stared at him, mouth agape, but Red ignored both him and the guilt and sorrow in his soul, stalking past. He started down the maze of hallways, footsteps following behind him every step of the way, until he reached his room. Pulling a suitcase from the top shelf of his closet, he started packing his meager belongings, again ignoring the presence of Sans in the room, staring silently at him.

“You know they’ll kill you if you leave, right?” Sans said, voice calm, emotionless. Red knew better.

“Better’n living under the thumb of’a jackass who pretends to love me.” Red choked out, the tears in his sockets threatening to fall. Suddenly there were arms around him, gently holding him, and Red melted into them, sobbing. 

“Its ok, I got you.” Sans murmured, softly drawing him closer. Red allowed it, letting himself cry as though no one were watching. 

It took a while for him to calm down, to realize that Sans was still holding him, but was staring out the window with a steely look in his eyes. Red knew that look; it was the one Sans always had when he had to discipline one of his employees. It was the one he had when he didn’t want to do something, but had to. 

Red didn’t like the connotations of what that look could mean in this context. So he waited for the guillotine to drop, ready for the blood to flow when Sans decided he didn’t want him around after all, that he would be sent away.

He waited, and waited, and was only answered with Sans’ hand coming under his chin, tilting his skull and drawing him into the sweetest, most intense kiss Red had ever experienced. It went on, and on, until Sans finally drew back and Red was left gasping for air. 

“What the fuck?” was really all he could say as he looked up at a smirking Sans.

“What? Not a fan of the french?”

Red couldn’t help but growl, scrambling to get up and get back to packing his clothes, because “Fuck you, Sans, you fucking hopeless piece of shit, whoever made you king deserves to be hanged, stars-” 

Sans could only laugh, following him down the hall calling him every pet name in the kingdom. Red was careful to not let on that he loved it, carrying on the charade until Toriel came from the kitchen to whack them both on the skull with a wooden spoon, exclaiming her frustration to the stars above as they both sat in the last hallway and carefully didn’t look at each other, laughing.


End file.
